


The Skipping Thing

by WeBuiltThePyramids



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Melvester, Scorpion Secret Santa, Secret Santa, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 16:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeBuiltThePyramids/pseuds/WeBuiltThePyramids
Summary: Sylvester and Megan work their way through that gray area between platonic and romantic.  Secret Santa fic for mirkwood-meriwether on Tumblr.





	The Skipping Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maggiemaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggiemaye/gifts).



_Dear Megan,_

_Is that too formal?  I am writing you a letter because it is easier for me to do this than call.  I know that’s stupid.  But anyway, if I was talking to you, I wouldn’t be starting off with some introduction like that, so do I still do it in a letter?  These are the things I think about.  And then, apparently, I write them down as if you care about my thought process.  It’s a letter.  It’s supposed to sound like something that was done in one smooth speech.  I still don’t know why I’m writing all this down, but I feel I’m more likely to get what I’m trying to say across if I don’t leave anything out._

_I really enjoyed the time we spent together the other night.  I have a very hard time talking to people, and you made it really easy.  I had, truthfully, I had been wanting to see you again since Christmas and so I was delighted when you accepted my invitation to go out to eat.  Truth is I don’t have many friends, and it really means a lot to me that you treat me like I’m normal._

_I guess I don’t really like that word.  But it’s the vocabulary that’s out there, so it’s what we all use.  But there’s a reason that’s how it’s spoken about.  Because people like me, and your brother…we aren’t treated like people a lot of the time.  And I know you aren’t making an effort to treat me like a person, you just view me as one.  And I think that’s what makes it mean so much to me._

_Anyway.  You looked nice.  Your smile put me at ease.  And I wanted to tell you that in person, when we parted ways, but I got shy.  That’s why I may have come off as awkward at that point.  I don’t know if I did…I can tell sometimes, but not always.  So I tend to assume I’m always awkward.  Then I’m either right or pleasantly surprised.  Both are pretty good options if you’re looking at it on the surface.  Though in these cases, obviously, I prefer to be pleasantly surprised._

_I realize I’m rambling.  Trust me, I have read over these few paragraphs several times and tried to figure out how to consolidate what I’m saying but honestly I can’t figure out how.  And my palms are sweaty.  I guess I’m even nervous about writing you this letter.  So imagine how pathetic I would be if I was trying to say this to you in person._

_Anyway.  Thanks again for spending some time with me. You said you had had a good time too.  I’m glad of that.  I hope I can see you again soon.  You can decide when.  And where.  It can be completely up to you, really.  I want to do whatever you’d like.  Because…I like you.  A lot._

_\- Sylvester_

_P.S. Sorry if it’s weird that I literally just signed off like that.  But at the end of the day this is a letter, so I’m just going with it._

* * *

The e – mail had come from the hospital; Sylvester recognized the domain.  Wondering if it was a bill from his recent stay, he opened it immediately, not liking to put anything like that off and give them excuses to tack on extra charges.  But the e – mail wasn’t from the hospital.  Well, it was, in it was sent from the hospital, but it wasn’t from hospital _staff_.  The electronic signature at the bottom said Megan O’Brien.  And there was a file attached.

It was named _headphones please_.

Sylvester rummaged through his desk drawer for his old pair of Behringers.  They weren’t the most comfortable pair of earbuds in the world, but the ones with squishy, detachable ear pieces always gave him visions of them coming apart and getting stuck in his ear canal.

He opened the file.

_Hey Sly.  It’s me.  I got your letter.  It’s difficult for me to write.  But I didn’t want to call you because I didn’t want to trigger your anxiety.  Especially since you said you were nervous about how I would feel about your letter._

_Honestly…it made my day.  Both to hear from you and to read what you had to say.  Not about your social issues.  Those just make me sad.  Because you’re such a wonderful, fun, kind person and I hate that you worry so much about every interaction you have.  But what made me happy was how you said you have fun with me.  And how you felt at ease.  Because, truth be told, spending time with you is one of my absolute favorite things.  You said it’s nice to spend time with someone who doesn’t make you feel like an outcast, and that’s something I can relate to.  Most of my interactions are about my MS.  How are you feeling today, Miss O’Brien?  Has the tingling in your extremities been getting worse?  How long can you walk without feeling weak?  I know most of them have to ask those things.  But it just kinda forces you to fixate on that stuff.  And I’d rather live while I’m alive, you know?  Even little bro is guilty of it sometimes.  I’m going to fix you, Megan, he says.  That doesn’t annoy me as much as it hurts, though.  Because he can’t fix me.  He won’t fix me, and when I’m gone he’s just going to blame himself or he’s going to internalize how losing me feels and I don’t know who is going to hold him when he breaks._

_It’s different with you.  It’s different than anything I’ve ever had before, even…even back in Ireland, before the bad things started happening.  It feels like a new lease on life even though my expiration date, whatever that may be, isn’t any further away than it already was.  I’ve always just sort of accepted that, and I wish that the people in my life could too, and just talk to me like they would anyone else.  And you do, Sly.  You do._

_So yeah, I’m rambling, and this is why I didn’t just call your voicemail; it would have cut me off ages ago.  Please let me know if there’s anything I can do that would make talking on the phone easier for you.  I’m sure if that was possible it would be easier on you than writing a letter, especially if you’re still concerned my brother might not react well to learning that you and I are talking and seeing each other outside of…seeing each other.  Was that bad word choice?  Or is that what we’re doing?_

_Ugh, now I envy you being able to write a letter.  You can erase or whatever.  I’m sorry, I’m stammering all over the place now.  Truth be told I guess my heart did the skipping thing when I read that you said you liked me.  And maybe I’m wrong about what you meant by that but I definitely like you._

_Maybe I’ll just re – record this.  If you’re listening, Sly, I ultimately decided to send it anyway because life is too damn short for ifs and maybes._

Sylvester heard crackling, a faint voice that appeared to be a generic intercom call, and then silence came through the cheap headphones.  _My heart did the skipping thing,_ Megan had said.  Sylvester knew the medical term for it, but his own heart was too busy doing the skipping thing for his brain to work and provide him with the term.

She liked him back.  She liked him back, she liked him back, she liked him back.  He had thought so, but this was proof.  He had the proof and he could listen back to it.

By the third play through, he had processed her words well enough that his recall had recovered and he memorized what she had said.  Everything about the message was bouncing around in his head.

She liked him.  She cared enough to respond to him in a way she was capable of but wouldn’t chance sending him headlong into an anxiety attack.  She related to his wish about being talked to like they were just like everyone else.  He was a genius, and he hadn’t been able to see that in a lot of ways, she was in the same boat as he was.

She had told him how much she enjoyed spending time with him when they were out to eat, and he had echoed her words right back.  But it was easy to say so in the moment.  It had been a few days since their outing when he wrote that letter, and this was easily two days after Megan had received it.  These words, this admission, it was all completely deliberate.  She felt everything that he did.  Even when it came to how the world perceived them.

Sylvester picked up his cell phone and dialed the number he had memorized weeks ago, pressing the proper extensions and tapping the fingers of his free hand on the desk as he counted the rings.  One, two, three…

“Hello?”

She sounded slightly surprised.  Of course she would be.  He knew that she didn’t usually get calls this early in the morning.

“Hey Meg,” he said, the nickname slipping easily off his tongue, feeling right even though he’d never used it before.  “I got your e – mail.  I think phones are going to work fine.  I feel comfortable around you.  I uh, actually, I’ve got the skipping thing too.”


End file.
